


A Bit of Science

by AtmaAiu



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Brainwashing, Mnemosurgery, Other, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-03-06
Packaged: 2018-03-16 15:38:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3493685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AtmaAiu/pseuds/AtmaAiu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trepan studying mnemosurgery on a living mech under Lobe’s caring wing.<br/>Or creepy mnemosurgeons being creepy.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Bit of Science

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Немного науки](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3493634) by [AtmaAiu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AtmaAiu/pseuds/AtmaAiu). 



February 22nd, 2015 at 2:26PM  
A Bit of Science.

Trepan studying mnemosurgery on a living mech under Lobe’s caring wing.  
Or creepy mnemosurgeons being creepy.)

\- An active brain module is harder to work on, - Lobe’s copper-orange profile with hooked nose leant closer to the head of a mech, tightly tied to the platform and totally mad with terror. The helm was taken off him, revealing a mess of wiring and a not-that-big ball of a brain module in an accurate grip of the fixings, and the patient himself was barely twitching already, as he had spent all his powers on the attempts on getting free or to scream at least. Trepan was following his mentor’s actions and words attentively, but there was a moment when he appeared to be unable to hold back a giggle, - the one related not to Lobe’s words, but to the shreds of sounds coming from under the metallic tape covering the mech’s mouth, a supposive mixture of squeals and groans, unexpected from such a sturdy guy.

That was some homeless dude from the Dead End, a former combaticon that had displeased his superiors, made himself nothing much more than an animal by drug addiction and who could now serve as a living test subject only. He wasn’t yet feeling any pain, - just an unusial cool emptiness around and in his head, all those thrashings and whines were the result of fear felt by him, the fear not already restrained by any rules of conduct. And Trepan was sure that should he set the mech free, - he wouldn’t even try to have his revenge or fight back, he’d just turn tail, - only to run into the guardian drones in the corridor, though…  
However, Lobe understood that silvery giggle in his own way:  
\- Yes, the mental responce is brighter in such cases, but they are afraid, no atter how strange does it sound, - his lips revealed a pair of unproportionally big fangs in a smile: when Primus had been creating Lobe’s looks, he came it too strong with the theromorphic traits. - and, believe me, this noise, this gallop of thoughts have to be learnt how to fight with. They interfere with work too much. Though this one doesn’t seem to bring so much troubles, - a nod in the combaticon’s direction followed, the needles were already aiming at his brain module. - After all those additives he had consumed, - Lobe tapped on the outer shell of the module with the very fingerpad, sparing the sensitive body of a needle: the combaticon jerked histerically, - I doubt that even a single thought is left here.  
The patient froze, glancing at the orange mnemosurgeon with fury, - and choked on a constrained scream again when the sharp, thin pain started piercing his head.  
\- I will help you, - this smile was a kind one.  
They had connected to one bot together before, though not through the module directly, but through the neurowires in the neck. In the latest case, mostly suitable for the small work that doesn’t require thorough invasion, calculating a needed depth a not piercing the nearby energon lines was enough. In the first case, they needed to sink their needles into the chosen points where the plates of the shell covering the core converged. When Trepan followed his mentor’s example, the combaticon wasn’t twitching already, only whimpering incoherently, and his conciousness, into which Trepan dived as if into he water, consisted of an unbearable panic, and, as Lobe had predicted, a ridiculous minimum of thoughts, mostly bitter, offended and furious. There were even less of memories, related to his military past with a shade of self-pride, and to the meager present.  
Something kind and amusing dawned through that storm, like the lught through the whipping wall of the hailstorm, and Trepan understood that Lobe was the first to find him.


End file.
